Young and Loaded

Chapter One

   Look alive, sunshine. One-Oh-Nine in the sky, but the pigs won't quit! You're here with me, Doctor Death Defying. I'll be your surgeon, your proctor, your helicopter, pumping out the slaughter-matic sounds to keep you live. A system fail—

   "Pump it, Jet, quit driving like a grandma!" Fun Ghoul yelled as I slammed the power button on Grace's boom box. She looked at me with a mixture of a scared and upset expression, unsure what was going on. Her blasting Doctor Death's damned radio station out in the middle of the desert led a hoard of Draculoids to us. Which was going to be a pain in the ass to fend off.

   I cursed under my breath, pulling my mask down over my face as I popped my head out of the top of the Trans-Am, our trusty car, aiming at the Dracs chasing us. Ghoul came up next to me, his dark hair tucked into his own mask. I counted ten, two on one motorcycle — one driving, one trying to shoot at me and Fun Ghoul. Only ten?

   Usually they send more. Especially for us.

   Another voice. This time, it was my brother — he went by Kobra Kid. I told him the name sounded kind of lame, but he didn't listen. Said he liked snakes or some shit. But the only snakes that I'd ever met were the pricks from Better Living Industries.

   "Jet, you fucking idiot, what are you doing?!"

   "Shut up, will you?" Jet Star shot back, finally stepping on the gas pedal in his rage. "I'm doing the best I can!" Rays flew from the white blasters that the Dracs carried as we zigzagged across the sand in our rather loud car. I grinned, taking a shot at the Dracs riding on shitty motorcycles. I pegged the front tire of one, which, upon bursting open and beginning to lose air, twisted to the side and took the two Dracs riding on it skidding backwards into another motorcycle.

   That left six more generic idiots to deal with until Grace was safe.

   Ghoul shot one in the back of the gang in the head, blood spraying on the one riding with him. The bike went askew, the single Drac left riding it going tumbling into the desert sand. I whooped, grinning at Fun Ghoul next to me, who didn't stop to look at me. Not like I could really tell, thanks to his mask, but he might've glanced towards me out of the corner of his eye. I watched as he pulled up the mask to expose the bottom half of his face as he gave me a humble shrug, the grin creeping up onto his face betraying the emotion he was trying to show. I knew he was proud.

   I knew him better than anyone else.

   I took my eyes off of him, looking to the task at hand. We still had four left, who looked absolutely pissed that we'd managed to pick off their friends. Then a ray of red shot out from the side of the car, knocking one of them off the bike. I looked back into the car to see Kobra reeling himself back into the car with his ray gun. It was smoking at the tip.

   Thanks to Kobra, we only had three left to get rid of.

   It was then that Jet Star, in his infinite mom-like wisdom, decided to make a turn. A fucking U-turn, running straight into the two remaining bikes and taking out the three Dracs at once, all while creating a dent in the car.

   Fun Ghoul yelled out cuss words that even I didn't recognize. Kobra screamed like a wuss. Grace probably passed out, I have no idea. Jet Star laughed. And me? The magnificently balanced Party Poison?

   I went hurtling out of the top of the Trans-Am.

   I suppose I should've been grateful that I didn't land on the body of one of the Draculoids. I hated getting blood on my clothes. But I was still pissed beyond reason at the fact that I was now on the hot sand of Zone Two, my back killing me, ray gun a good seven and a half feet from my head. I tried to move, the groan that came from my mouth getting drowned out by the sound of the car breaking and everyone getting out, slamming the doors shut. I reminded them in a strangled mumble to be careful with the doors, as I was going to have to be the one to pay a hundred carbons and suck a dick to get it repaired by some idiot who probably doesn't know shit about cars.